


Death Gets a Latte

by Lannakitty



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lannakitty/pseuds/Lannakitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A funny thing happened on the way to order coffee. Will, Druitt and a coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Gets a Latte

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Title: Death Gets a Latte  
> Summary: A funny thing happened on the way to order coffee. Will, Druitt and a coffee shop.  
> Type: Drama  
> Characters: Will Zimmerman, John Druitt  
> Warnings: None  
> Spoilers: The Five and earlier  
> Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.  
> A/N: Random ficlet. I think it's kinda fun. I haven't written much Will or Druitt so I thought I'd give it a go. Messing with Will is fun! HUGE thanks to [](http://oparu.livejournal.com/profile)[**oparu**](http://oparu.livejournal.com/) for the super-quick beta and the title!

  
Will studied the board above the barristas as the line inched forward. It was noon on Sunday and he'd only been up for an hour. After an intense forty-eight hour scramble with zero sleep and a glorious fourteen hour nap, he needed something stronger than could be found in the sanctuary kitchens.

He stepped forward and considered the choices before him. Did he want a Cinnamon Dolce latte? Zebra mocha? Double-tall shot in the dark? He pondered this as he gazed around the coffee shop, a nice little independent one with free wifi and heavy, handcrafted wooden tables. In the winter they had a fire, on Saturday nights live music. Art done by locals hung on the wall, for both decoration and sale.

The married couple in front of him were Ashley's age and had just come from church. He noticed the wedding bands, rolled up service bulletin and jeans traded for khaki's. A heavyset man with ink-stained hands was working on some kind of graphic novel, his work spread over one of the larger tables, coffee finished or forgotten at his elbow since no steam rose into the air. A couple college students worked at their laptops, writing reports or doing homework at tables by the power outlets. Others in the shop chatted quietly in circles of seating or read books and newspapers.

The line moved forward and, as Will turned his attention to the board, a lanky, bald man with a scar glided into the shop. He gallantly held the door for another college student with an armload of English books.

Will froze in place as Druitt strode forward with the casual danger of a predator. Two women and one man looked up from their books and papers as he passed by. Will checked for the exits. One was to his left and slightly behind. The other door was the one Druitt had just entered. He supposed the kitchen had some kind of door for deliveries.

Druitt slid into line behind him with a nod, "Dr. Zimmerman." He leaned against the counter and casually perused the drink menu. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Likely," was all Will could come up with.

Druitt tilted his head to one side and arched a brow, a subtle challenge.

"Your order?"

Will jumped when the barrista spoke up. Will looked from him to the menu then back again, "Uhm."

"Mexican mocha. Double shot to go," Druitt said, clapping a hand on Will's shoulder. Winking at the kid, he added, "He's not awake yet. I'll take a tall half-caff cappuccino to go as well." He pulled out a twenty to pay.

Chuckling, the kid asked, "Name?"

"John."

_Jack the Ripper is buying me coffee._

"Uhm." Thrown off balance, Will let himself be led to the pickup counter by the hand on his shoulder.

"In my day, a man would thank the person who just purchased his drink for him."

"Thank you?" Will asked. Why was Druitt here? What did he want? What the hell was a Mexican mocha? Was he on his way to the sanctuary or had he slaughtered everyone and Will was next? Could he text Helen? Could he text Ashley? Why hadn't he listened to both of them and gone out armed? He had a concealed carry permit, he should have damn well used it.

"Half-Caff and Mexican Mocha for John!" the barrista called out, breaking the swirl of thoughts in Will's head.

Druitt elegantly indicated the coffee cup with that same tilted head and arched brow. He was tense, Will realized. The tightness around his eyes and shoulders weren't quite masked by his otherwise open gestures.

Warily, Will took the cup and slid a sleeve around it. "Thank you," he said again, feeling more steady as the edge of panic eased into a hyper-focus. "What brings you around here?" he asked.

"Oh, this and that," Druitt answered, affixing a top and sleeve to his cup. "I haven't been nearly as busy as you have over the past few days," he remarked. Gesturing to the tables, he lifted a brow.

It was a public place and Will was curious. He'd looked up the facts of the Ripper case after learning the truth about Druitt and his relation to both Dr. Magnus and Ashley. There had been pictures of one of the victims and the investigator's report of that scene had been detailed. He hoped his study would help him avoid becoming another victim now. He didn't fit the profile, but the Ripper had never been entirely consistent and Druitt would kill to remove a threat.

They sat at a table by the fireplace a bit away from the next nearest customer, but well in sight of everyone. Not that it would help if Druitt decided to teleport them both; the man was fast and the other patrons wouldn't believe their eyes if they saw. Will tasted the coffee and was surprised to find cinnamon, nutmeg and some kind of hot spice mixed with chocolate and the espresso. It was very good.

And very surreal to think Jack the Ripper had good taste in coffee.

Druitt sat back in his seat with an air of confidence, shoulders back and open, one leg propped on the other. His hand played with the plastic stirrer he'd used. He sipped his drink and he scanned out the window, but if he looked for danger or to find someone, Will didn't know.

"I went out on my own this morning for coffee, so I'll be expected back soon." Looking up at Druitt was like staring at a tiger. "But you already knew that."

Druitt smiled, looking at Will in the eye and confirming the profiler's statement.

"Why?" Will asked directly. Druitt responded to force and strength, though there was his supposed reformation to consider. Though there was tension in his body, Will noted that it wasn't the frenetic kind he'd seen before. So he was concerned or worried for some reason and not hot and bothered to start playing a deadly version of operation.

"I was curious," Druitt said, carefully holding Will's gaze.

He was lying. He hadn't looked to the side, but Will's instincts screamed that Druitt was lying. Was it more dangerous then to confront him with it as a sign of strength or to let it slide?

Deciding to push his luck, Will replied, "You'll forgive me if I don't believe that." He resisted the urge to gulp when Druitt turned his gaze back on him, still wearing a slight smile.

"Believe what you like," Druitt offered, neither confirming nor denying. "Aside from the recent excitement with those Chupacabras, things have seemed quiet." Druitt remarked.

"Is that a threat?"

Holding up a hand, Druitt denied the allegation. "It is merely an observation, Dr. Zimmerman." Looking at Will over the rim of his cup, he added "No need to get one's boxers in a twist. I'm not here to offer violence." He smirked.

Will wanted to squirm under that gaze. He wasn't entirely sure but it seemed like the other man was eyeing him. Druitt, despite giving small hints here and there, was extremely difficult to read. It was rare Will came across someone so challenging. "At the moment at least," he retorted.

Parting his shirt slightly, Druitt said in a much more subdued tone, "I am much changed by my encounter with Telsa." The part of the scar Will could see was pink and new, ropey in texture and stood out on his chest. From the center it radiated out to smaller points that had healed faster and were more pale. It was as ugly as had been described to him only weeks ago when Ashley and Helen had returned from Rome.

Druitt savored his drink then set the cup down. "Electroconvulsive Therapy has been shown to have positive therapeutic affect by physicians in a number of countries."

Will's eyes narrowed slightly. It felt like a taunt, and it probably was, given Druitt's slow smile. "What you had was torture, not ECT," Will pointed out.

Druitt shrugged, seemingly conceding the point before coming back with, "It may very well have had the same effect, though it wasn't administered in the correct location or current." He paused then added "Older men have higher thresholds then younger women, for example, and I am a very old man."

Will drank his coffee and thought about this. The spice burned slow on his tongue even as the chocolate soothed it. The combination was pleasing. Druitt seemed to have read as least a little about the real therapy, which was interesting. Why would he do that? And it was true it was a valid treatment option at least in people who had not responded well to other forms of intervention. What little Will knew had been a section on it during school and what he'd brushed up on when Helen had told him about Rome. The example of effectiveness was intriguing. Why would he bring that up? Will's instincts told him to hang on to that fact as part of the larger puzzle.

"I can't deny that," Will began slowly, "But again, history is telling us to err on the side of caution."

"Yes," Druitt agreed, wrapping both long-fingered hands around the cup.

Will detected notes of sadness and bitter resignation. He still was not sure how genuine those feelings were. The door behind Will opened, letting in the sound of traffic, then closed. Druitt's eyes flicked over to the door then back down to the cup. He leaned back in the chair and scratched his chin.

Interesting. His expression had changed slightly when the door had opened. It had been...hopeful, Will realized, then disappointed. Possibly resigned. He put that fact beside the first.

"Expecting someone?"

"Perhaps," Druitt allowed. "Or maybe I am merely wary of any backup you may have called."

Will gave him an even look. "What do you really want?"

"To take the measure of one of the men Helen has seen fit to hire? To evaluate the newest keen mind she has taken under her wing?" He chuckled, "I find you interesting, Dr. Zimmerman."

To Will, it felt more like a large cat complimenting the small prey animal he was about to devour. It wasn't the whole truth either.

"You've handled yourself well, better than you realize. The monster in the Himalayas, the unfortunate event with the mermaids, the Chupacabras yesterday and those tiny but destructive creatures." He waved and frowned at a spot to the left of Will, "They resemble rather evil versions of those annoying children's toys. Furbays or something."

"Furbies?" Will asked.

"Yes. Those." He sneered in memory, "I was glad when that particular fad was over."

Will chuckled agreement, using the moment to ponder these new facts. Had Druitt been following him? Why? Having one of the most notorious serial killers of recent history interested enough in your whereabouts to do some serious snooping was terrifying. Will mentally shook his head. No way was this about him. There was something else.

"Agreed," Will allowed. "You've been keeping a close eye, then."

Druitt saluted him with his coffee. "I've been dropping in and keeping my ears open for word of what Helen's people have been up to, yes. My relationship isn't common knowledge so it affords me a certain, latitude shall we say."

Will's eyes narrowed. "Skulking around in the shadows stalking your former lover isn't exactly something a reformed man would do."

Druitt chuckled, a rich cultured sound built of equal parts amusement and regret. The man was filled with contrasts, Will decided. It made him unpredictable and dangerous.

"True, it would seem like that. I assure you my intentions are for the best."

Will gave him a flat look.

"Helen was the greatest love of my life." Druitt settled into his seat, toying again with the coffee stirrer as he looked out the window. "She was and is a very rare woman. What I did to her is untenable and I would do anything to see she does not suffer so ever again."

Something clicked in Will's head. He was still missing pieces to this puzzle but he thought he had enough of the details now for a guess. "You've been following Ashley."

"Bravo." Druitt saluted Will with his cup then drank.

"They're not going to like that."

Setting the coffee cup down, Druitt eased back in his seat, but his fingers kept twirling the bit of plastic. Will watched him fidget, the tip of the tiger's tail in motion. Druitt laced his fingers together, one elbow resting on the chair's armrest.

"Ashley is the last tangible evidence of the love Helen and I once shared. The last good thing I did for the woman I love." He laughed, "Perhaps the last sign that I was once human."

Will nodded, "Be that as it may, they're still not going to like you stalking either of them." Druitt was being talkative so perhaps the direct approach was best now. "Why?"

"The first time I saw Ashley, I knew she was mine. I'd caught a glimpse of Helen and this, this Valkyrie comes to stand beside her," he smiled in memory. "At the time, I burned with fury because I could not see anything else, but now I look on that moment with a measure of peace, with relief."

"Relief?" Will questioned, slightly annoyed that Druitt seemed to be avoiding the question.

"I've checked in from time to time, never staying long but never being able to truly leave. I've tested the extent of my abilities, seen the world. Helen's blood or maybe the teleporting has slowed my aging considerably." He picked up the plastic stirrer again, twirling it. "Helen has been losing touch with humanity. Time slips around her." He looked Will in the eye. "I believe it may have even begun the night we used the source blood."

"And you're relieved?" Will prompted.

Druitt looked at the table then back at Will. "Precious few connections of any substance remain for her, and the greatest of these survivors is Ashley."

Eyeing him warily, Will asked, "What's going to happen to Ashley?"

Druitt laced his fingers together, resting them on the table, eyes downcast. "The sins of the father are visited on the child. She is an angel gifted to Helen." He looked Will in the eye, the laced fingers became fists on the table. "I will not see such a seraphim laid low by the same madness if it is in my power to stop it."

Will let out a slow breath, alarmed by the quiet intensity contained by the man on the other side of the table. "You think she could," he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"It is in her blood as it is in mine. My fervent hope is that Helen's good influence is enough, but I fear it may not be." Druitt relaxed his hands on the table with some effort. "I am not the first member of my family to carry a darker side," he admitted. "My mother was not sound at the time of her death."

  
Will remembered that detail from one of the entries he'd read online. There were a hundred questions floating in his brain. How had he faked his own death, because he certainly had. Where had be been during the intervening years? What had his mother suffered from? Modern knowledge with an eyewitness account would give a reasonable diagnosis. What was the progression of his own symptoms? Were there things he'd already been keeping hidden from Helen, making her records incomplete? Was Helen already looking at Ashley for signs of madness? Was it a symptom of the potential for teleportation when combined with the source blood? Was it a byproduct? Was it a genetic defect that could be treated with modern methods of intervention? Was he being poetic when he said that time slipped around Helen or was he being literal?

Druitt chuckled and drank the last of his coffee. "So many questions and so little time for answers." Looking Will in the eye, he said, "You remind me of a very old and very dear friend."

There were many things implied in that statement and Will wasn't quite sure where to begin to tease them apart. "Thanks, I think." He tapped his cup on the table, looked Druitt in the eye and asked, "What do you want from me?"

The slow smile was deeply disturbing to Will for half a dozen reasons. Something must have shown on his face, despite his best efforts, because Druitt chuckled.

Glaring, Will repeated the question. "If you're here to play games or keep me from being someplace else, I'm done."

The levity drained from Druitt's face, leaving a dangerous, solemn expression. His eyes burned, but body was unnaturally still. It took Will a lot of effort not to bolt right there, the transformation was so complete and terrifying. "I will do anything to protect them, even ask the newest addition to Helen's household." Resentment and fury burned in his words. "Helen's love may blind her once again and I cannot let that happen."

Will nodded slowly. "I'm telling them you asked me. No secrets." He grimaced, adding, "They're really, not going to be happy, but I'm not going to spy on the off chance Ashley inherited your...social skills."

Druitt relaxed in his seat, holding his arms wide, "I can handle their fury, and will do so gladly."

"Are Magnus' records complete? Did you withhold anything from her."

Druitt snorted. "Most aspects of my life she was perfectly aware of, but some things." He trailed off, relaxing into the seat again. "It appears we may have to meet again, Dr. Zimmerman. What a pity." His tone indicated he thought no such thing. Shaking his head, Will closed his eyes as he spoke, "If I'm going to be your therapist, we're going to have to set some ground ru-" He heard the odd whispering sound and opened his eyes to find the other chair was empty.

"Grround rules," he finished lamely. Looking around he saw that none of the other patrons had caught Druitt's disappearing act. Sighing, Will got to his feet, threw out his empty cup and headed for the door.  
Pulling out his cell he called Helen's number. "Hey Magnus? you're never going to believe what just happened."

~fin  



End file.
